


Are You Lonely?

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie is jealous, and he hates himself for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Lonely?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dreams of a Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/731151) by [starstruck1986](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986). 



> Warnings / Content: Language, angst, mention of past suicidal ideation and acts. Picks up almost exactly where the last fic left off, but not really essential to have read that to read this if you just like the pairing.

“Am I the only one that finds that a bit kinky?” Charlie muttered out of the side of his mouth, not tearing his eyes away from Harry and Ron's hands tied up in the silky handfasting ribbon.  
  
“You are ridiculously inappropriate,” Severus muttered back.  
  
Their shoulders were brushing together and Charlie could feel Severus' body heat. He welcomed it, glad to have company during the ceremony. It wasn't that he begrudged Harry and Ron at all, because they had been through hell and Ron had nearly died. Charlie wanted Ron to have all the happiness he deserved. He would have given it himself if he'd been able. His eyes were stinging from the effort of keeping his emotions inside. From within a family he had found another family in itself, one which didn't judge him when he staggered in drunk at three in the morning or when he stank the bathroom out after a good curry.  
  
“Tissue?” Severus muttered, thrusting one in front of him.  
“Don't be a twat,” Charlie replied. He took the soft paper and crushed it in his fist.  
“That's your youngest brother standing there, making the biggest commitment of his life. If you think I find your sentiment unattractive, you're severely mistaken.” Severus leant over to whisper those words in his ear.  
  
Charlie swallowed as a hot tear trickled down his cheek. He blinked and grew frustrated when more tears were released. A shaky breath escaped his mouth and another followed when Severus took the hand of his which was sandwiched between their thighs. He held his breath as their fingers laced together.  
  
“Fuck,” he mumbled, as he began mopping at his face with the borrowed tissue, and Harry and Ron shared a kiss in front of their assembled guests.  
  
Ron was blushing with happiness and Harry looked simply delirious. Charlie had been there during the period where Ron had lapsed, where he had to be watched for fear that he might try to take his own life again. Charlie had sat up all night long and watched over them both, shaken to his core by the idea that Ron might never be truly 'well' again. That he and Harry might not have the happy ending that they were supposed to have.  
  
But those worries were in the past, at least for the day, because they were finally _doing_ it, getting married, and Charlie had nothing but the deepest respect for them both for making such a huge commitment.  
  
He was so swept up in his thoughts that when everyone in the room broke into loud applause, he jumped. Severus laughed at him.  
  
“No tongue!” George called exasperatedly, as the pair indulged in a too-chaste kiss.  
  
Then it was done, and Charlie allowed himself to walk numbly with the flow, following Harry and Ron out into the Ministry for the first steps of their married lives. Severus remained by his side, matching his stride, and Charlie fought the urge to reach out and take his hand. He wasn't sure when Severus planned on breaking the news if he didn't change his mind about the whole thing completely. Charlie wouldn't blame him if he did. George, Ron and Harry weren't the easiest of audiences.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Two years earlier...**  
  
The hiccup rocked through his chest and Charlie was damned sure he was going to regret the last glass of champagne before morning even dawned. The room had an ungainly spin to it and everyone's voices seemed far louder than usual.  
  
“Charlie?”  
“What?” he jerked out of his trance, shaking his head to clear it.  
“You look like you're having your own little party there,” George grinned. “You should go to bed, old man.”  
“Who're you calling old, you fuckin' shit?” Charlie slurred, jabbing in George's direction with his glass. “I could take you, and you, and you.” He pointed to Hermione in the end, and they all laughed.  
  
Hermione was pink in the face and her eyes were wide and bright. Charlie had never seen her as drunk as she was, sitting in Harry and Ron's kitchen, whilst both of the aforementioned hosts were tucked up safely in bed.  
  
Draining his glass, Charlie savoured the taste on his tongue. It tasted too good to swallow, but he did, because the need to urinate was testing his bladder's strength. He attempted to stand but managed more of a lurch, only saving himself from landing on his backside by grabbing the table with his hands. The wood wobbled and the remaining drinks placed on it slopped over the rims of their glasses.  
  
“'M gonna piss, then bed,” he declared. He let out a rather acidic belch as he pushed away from the table and tripped slightly over his own feet. He made a face at the sour taste which rose in his mouth. Perhaps the fry up hadn't been such a good idea.  
  
Only sheer luck helped him as he made his way from the kitchen, groping along the walls and blinking dumbly in the sudden darkness. The noise faded the further he staggered and he was grateful even though the sounds of his friends' merriment was only replaced by an odd ringing noise. He shook his head, trying to chase it off.  
  
“Oh, fuck...” he breathed, as his stomach rolled, and he placed one hand on it, willing it to calm, to not bring up everything he had consumed that night. Leaning against the wall he realised he truly didn't have the energy to throw up.  
  
Every ounce of his energy had been poured into ensuring that Harry and Ron had made it through the past weeks as calmly as possible. He had only thought of them. His every move had been made for two other people. Now they no longer needed him, his task was complete, and he suddenly felt empty, and very, very alone. Harry and Ron were no doubt curled around one another, nestled in their bed, smelling one another, breathing the other in. Coldness seemed to spread over his alcohol-flushed skin as he thought of them.  
  
“Jealous. After all they've been through to have the fuckin' privilege,” he slurred to himself, and shook his head in disgust.  
“Charlie?”  
  
His head snapped up and Severus Snape was there, one hand on the open bathroom door through which he had clearly just walked. The man didn't say anything more, but stood with his eyebrows slightly raised in question. Charlie licked his lips and wondered how to explain that he was jealous of a relation who had been through hell, just because he had a lover.  
  
“Jus' drunk,” he said dismissively. He shrugged and tried to smile. “Need to go to bed.”  
“I think everyone could do with that,” Severus agreed. “Me included. But I didn't know where to... there are so many rooms. I didn't want to just...”  
  
He trailed off and Charlie watched as the slim man folded his arms over his chest; it was probably meant to look reserved, maybe unmoved by the alcohol, merriment and success they had all shared that day. What Charlie actually saw, though, was a man wrapping his arms around his own body, looking thin, vulnerable and slightly sad.  
  
“I'll show you”, he said, forcing his mouth to make full, coherent words. “I know the house.”  
“Thank you.”  
  
Charlie smiled at him. When Severus smiled back, a tight-lipped smile of duty, he experienced a rush of something which made the back of his neck hot. He had grown used to Severus' sudden presence – Harry had insisted that he be there, for reasons which none of them really understood. It was plain that Severus was uncomfortable with the sudden socialisation forced upon him by a man whom he didn't have the heart to refuse. Charlie liked that Severus had not said no. He liked the way Severus looked at Harry – the tired look of a man who had long had enough, but while there was still breath in that boy's chest, the man would keep on serving, keep on protecting. Charlie assumed that it was the connection with Ron which caused the rushes of affection in his own chest towards Severus. In protecting Harry, Severus had saved Ron from a return to Azkaban and near certain death.  
  
“Why are you staring at me?” Severus asked.  
“Uh...” Charlie felt his cheeks flood with colour and he jolted into action, lurching further along the hallway.  
  
He managed to keep himself upright, somehow, even though everything was blurry in his vision. He kept going, putting one foot in front of the other, until he reached the end, where two doors stood opposite one another. Two of the ground floor bedrooms, he knew. He hoped, or he was going to look like a right idiot. Holding his breath, not quite sure why looking like an idiot might matter – he was sure Severus already thought he was one and at the same time didn't know why he would think that – he reached out and opened one of the doors. Relief flooded him as a bed frame glinted in the light from the hallway.  
  
“Bedroom,” he announced. “The bed-”  
“I can make that up,” Severus said, brushing past him.  
  
Charlie smelt him as he passed, an odd mix of scents he couldn't place but definitely liked. He didn't move. He watched as the man lit some candles around the room and pulled the curtains over the window. Shoes were slipped out of and tucked neatly at the bottom of the bed. Transfixed, Charlie looked at Severus' feet, long and slim in black socks, seemingly completely flat.  
  
“Well... goodnight,” Severus said finally, perhaps unnerved by Charlie's intense stare. He put one hand on the door and started to close it.  
“Wait!” Charlie blurted, unsure of what he was going to say. “I just... um...”  
  
Severus waited for a few moments before losing patience and adopting a tired glare.  
  
“Can I... Can I come in?” Charlie asked, finding himself short of breath and clueless as to why.  
“What for?” Severus asked, clearly wary.  
“I don't... I don't really...” he faltered.  
  
Silence stretched between them and Charlie found he had no idea what to do or say. It wasn't often he felt completely inadequate, but at that moment he felt like a dunce. His mouth was dry and his face was hot, a bad combination, and he didn't know why he was stopping the Slytherin from closing the door and going to bed as he clearly wanted to do.  
  
“Look, I'm shattered,” Severus said finally, his face caving and making his emotional and physical state plain. “Either come in or go, but make your bloody mind up.”  
  
Startled into action by the light curse, Charlie shuffled forward, and Severus stepped back to let him in, closing the door when he was able. Charlie buried his hands in his pockets and clenched them into fists. His fingernails dug painfully into his palms.  
  
“Here,” Severus said, before swigging from a small vial of liquid. “I think you probably need this more than I do.”  
  
Charlie chugged a mouthful and recognised the taste. Sobering solution. He knew when the potion took effect he'd leave the room and perhaps Severus knew too, and it was his way of getting him to leave. That thought firmly planted in his mind, it was a surprise, therefore, when Severus moved to stand in front of him.  
  
“Are you lonely, Charlie?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Are you wishing that you had somebody who would go through hell for you, like Harry and Ron have gone through hell for each other?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“You're not alone.”  
  
Charlie wasn't sure what made him reach up and touch the tips of his fingers to Severus' cheek – it was probably the same madness which had brought him over the threshold of the room in the first place, he realised. Severus' skin was cool to the touch, despite all the alcohol they had consumed, and how very hot Charlie was himself.  
  
“I am not in the habit of doing this.” It sounded like half a warning, half a statement of a man trying to talk himself out of something he was afraid of. Charlie ignored him and shuffled closer, so close that he accidentally trod on Severus' foot.  
  
He was shoeless, having kicked off his footwear the second he had re-entered Grimmauld Place after the hearing. It felt insanely intimate, having his toes covering Severus' separated by only socks, and his socks, Charlie remembered, had a really huge hole on the big toe of that particular foot.  
  
His arms seemed to move of their own accord, wrapping around Severus' waist, and Charlie spared a thought for how thin his bones were. Not like him. Charlie was broad everywhere. Muscled in fairness, but still broad, and his belly had more paunch to it than he wanted. But he was strong, stronger than the man he held in his arms, and he liked that, he realised. He knew that Severus Snape could knock him dead in the blink of an eye using magic. Yet with pure bone and muscle, Charlie knew he had the upper hand and it caused something to stir in his belly.  
  
Watchful dark eyes were on him as he leaned in, for every millimetre closing between them the sobering solution working just a little more, and by the time their lips met Charlie knew his mind was clear and the room would not be spinning when he pulled away. He tensed his arms, drawing Severus closer and that one action seemed to cause two sets of willpower to shatter.  
  
He gasped against the older wizard's mouth as Severus pressed hard against him, jaw working with great strength against his own. Fingers clawed into his back through his t-shirt. He tasted champagne in Severus' mouth, mixed with the odd lingering savoury accents from his haphazardly cooked drunken fry-up.  
  
Charlie jumped when Severus' fingertips suddenly touched to his bare skin. He didn't remember the man creeping under his top and he certainly didn't mind, but he immediately felt he should match the movement. He pushed under the hem of the shirt that Severus was wearing and ran his hands up slender hips until he finally found some flesh to grab. He moaned as the kiss broke off and Severus stilled under his touch.  
  
“What?” Charlie whispered, frightened that he had ruined it, that Severus would pull away and throw him out and that he would spend the night alone.  
“Nothing... I just haven't done this for a very, _very_ long time,” Severus said, his voice so low that Charlie had to struggle to hear him.  
“Well then you're doing bloody well.” Charlie let his lips curl into an easy grin, trying to put the man's mind at rest. He cared nothing for any perceived insecurities that Severus had about himself. If life had taught him one thing, amongst the booze, the cigarettes, the odd dabbling in illegal substances and having been fucked over many times by men he had loved, it was that he had the ability to see the best in others, especially when they could not see it themselves.  
  
Severus hesitated and Charlie saw his eyes changing, saw horror unfurling in them – at what they had done, at where they had been going. “Don't,” he begged, reaching up to touch a fingertip to Severus' bottom lip.  
  
“Don't what?”  
“Don't stop this,” Charlie murmured, drawing the man closer so that their chins touched each other's shoulders.  
  
They stood locked in an odd embrace, the remnants of arousal caused by the kissing pressed against each other. Charlie angled his head to press a kiss to what he could reach of Severus' neck. Then he kissed his shoulder, and then his hair, and then he pulled back to kiss a jaw which he had never quite appreciated as defined before.  
  
“You'll wake up tomorrow and regret this,” Severus muttered. “You'll wonder what the fuck you've done and hate yourself and I'll hate myself that little bit more.”  
  
The words were spat with such bitterness that Charlie wondered whether the sobering solution had been as successful on Severus' inebriation as it had been on his own. When he pulled back and looked into his eyes, however, he found them painfully clear and narrowed, distaste etched the man's grimace.  
  
“I won't regret it,” Charlie promised. “I don't have regrets.”  
“I do.” Every word sounded blunter than the one before.  
“Not me,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “I won't be a regret. Let me show you.”  
  
Severus laughed then, a dry laugh which, from anyone else, would have been accompanied by a droll eye roll. Severus just shook his head.  
  
“Give me a chance?” Charlie implored, unsure of why he wanted so dearly to prove himself.  
  
He knew if he was lonely he could leave Grimmauld Place, regardless of the hour, and find someone, somewhere, willing to keep him company. He knew he was an attractive man and there would always be someone out there to warm his bed. Something was niggling him, though. Something which suggested that whatever he had with Severus, wherever it was going, it would be more than just bed warming. More than just a fuck and a quick swig of coffee the next morning before completing the walk of shame. More than just the rush of another man's come over his hand before his own climax.  
  
More.  
  


* * *

  
  
“You all right?” Charlie asked, slinging himself into a chair next to Hermione, who was clutching her wine glass and trying to hide her damp eyes.  
“Oh... of course. Just... happy. Happy,” she nodded.  
“Who're you trying to convince, me or yourself?” he asked quietly, reaching out to pick up a bottle of champagne. He swigged from it and then nursed the bottle to his chest.  
“Would you just look at them?” Hermione gasped, unable to hold her emotion in. She nodded in Harry and Ron's direction.  
  
They were only standing in conversation, laughing with George, but their fingers were mashed together so tightly that it was impossible to know where one man stopped and the other began. The sight made Charlie's chest ache.  
  
“Yeah. I know.” He nodded, unable to tear his eyes from them.  
“It's not like I... it's not like I'm jealous,” she went on. “Okay. I might be a tiny bit jealous. I mean... Ron and I... we were meant to... I don't know what we were meant to do. That's long over but now...”  
“Now, they're married, and you're watching them from the outside, and it hurts,” Charlie finished for her, matter-of-factly. “Hermione, it's okay to feel that way. You've been through so much together.”  
“But if it had all gone how we planned... nobody would have felt this way. I would have had Ron. Harry would have Ginny. No loneliness.”  
  
She drained her glass and slammed it down on the table in front of her. Charlie watched her shoulders heave as she tried to regulate her breathing. His eye landed on George, charming everyone, his hand casually resting on a heavily pregnant Angelina's belly. None of them had seen it coming, the relationship between George and his dead twin's girlfriend, but for all their worry he had never seen George happier.  
  
“I've got to get out of here,” Hermione muttered tearfully.  
  
Unable to think of anything that he could say to convince her to stay, Charlie watched her hurry off, wiping viciously at her eyes. Still clutching his champagne bottle, he got to his feet and walked over to where the happy couple stood. He smiled on approach but inched close to Ron to whisper in his ear.  
  
“I think you and Harry need to go and find Hermione.”  
“What, why?” Ron frowned.  
  
Charlie's eyes lingered over the ugly red mark across his brother's throat where the rope had cut in during his first suicide attempt. His eyes grew dangerously wet.  
  
“She just needs her friends at the minute. And that's you two.”  
“Right.” Ron frowned at him. “What's the matter with you? You look like you're about to cry.”  
  
Charlie said nothing. He glanced over at Severus, sitting by the fire with a glass of whiskey, chatting amiably with Audrey.  
  
“Charlie?” Ron said, shoving his face in Charlie's line of sight.  
“I'm fine,” he lied automatically. “I'm fine. Just emotional. Proud of you, aren't I?”  
  
Ron gave him a look reminiscent of Severus and it stopped him in his tracks.  
  
“I should tell you something,” Charlie breathed finally.  
“I'm listening.”  
“I'm in love with the man sitting by that fireplace and I don't think there's anything I can do which'll convince him to love me back.”  
  
His brother didn't have to look to know who he was talking about, it seemed. Ron broke away from Harry, dropping his hand for what was probably the first time in hours. Charlie allowed himself to be pulled to one side and looked down at his shoes.  
  
“D'you really think you've just told me anything new?” Ron asked quietly, wearing a ghost of a grin. “It's been bloody obvious for months. But I think you're wrong about how he feels about you.”  
“How would you know?”  
“Because Harry grilled him the other day about this mysterious person he keeps meeting, who he seems to be spending all of his waking hours with. He said it was serious. He said that he was feeling things that he had not felt for a really long time.”  
“That could just be wind.” Charlie let the joke fall flat, not even bothering to laugh himself.  
  
“Have you asked him?” Ron asked after a while stood in silence.  
“What?”  
“Whether he loves you or not.”  
“No. Too scared of the answer.”  
“Charlie, don't be such a dickhead,” Ron said flatly, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Grow a pair, go over there, and you ask him how he feels about you.”  
“What if he says no?”  
“He won't.”  
“He might.”  
“He bloody won't, now fuck off and go and ask him before I do it for you.”  
  
When Charlie didn't move Ron opened his mouth as if to shout and it spurred him into action. He hurried away, swigging from the bottle of champagne again to try and garner some courage from it. As he approached, Audrey looked up at him.  
  
“I just need the loo,” she gabbled, drunk and happy. “I'll be back! Don't go anywhere!”  
  
Charlie watched her wobble off before looking at Severus. He looked tired but still content, it seemed, despite the hardship he had endured of being sociable all day long. Charlie sat next to him on the sofa and rubbed his thumb over the bottle top.  
  
“I'll be leaving soon,” Severus advised him quietly. “My neck is agony.”  
“Okay.”  
“So if you plan on telling Ron about us, then I would do it soon.”  
“Ron already knows. I didn't have to tell him.”  
“Oh.”  
“Severus?”  
“Mm?”  
“I love you.”  
“Why?”  
“I said I – what d'you mean, why?”  
  
His frown relaxed when he saw the smile on Severus' face.  
  
“I think you've had too much of that,” the man advised, tugging the champagne bottle away from his hands. “I know you love me. And I would hope that you know that I feel the same way.”  
“Well... no, actually, I fucking didn't.”  
“Are you cognitively retarded?”  
“Fuck off.”  
“Well it rather leaves a man wondering what else he needs to do to express such an emotion when his partner says he doesn't know he's loved.”  
“Say it,” Charlie cried. “Just bloody say what you feel!”  
“I'm not particularly talented at that.”  
“You're meant to be a fast learner.”  
“I am.”  
“Then learn, for fuck's sake!”  
  
Charlie raked his fingers through his hair, angry at everything, suddenly – at the wedding, at Severus, at himself.  
  
A slim hand landed on his knee and squeezed.  
  
“Saying that word, Charlie... it has never brought me good things in the past. I would rather not risk this, of all things, when it means so much to me.”  
  
He opened his mouth to retort but found there were no words on his tongue. There was nothing he could say to that. Instead he got to his feet, swallowed, and set his eyes on the door. Whether he knocked people aside or whether they jumped out of his way, Charlie wouldn't be able to say by the time he was three hallways away, his chest heaving, face burning with an emotion which could have been anything. It was impossible to tell, his insides and mind were churning so much.  
  
“Fuck it!” he bellowed, slamming his hand into the nearest wall. The impact absorbed into his bones, stinging his fingers and aching all the way into his wrist. It wasn't enough. The physical pain didn't stop what was going on in his head or his belly. He slammed harder, and harder, until his skin was screaming and there was a sizeable dent in the plaster of the wall.  
  
He came to a rest and pressed his forehead to the wallpaper, looking down at the hole he had created. A thought floated across his mind that perhaps Harry or Ron might be angry with him for it. Another thought suggested that Severus would be angry about his hand.  
  
“Have you quite finished?” Severus' voice was soft behind him and Charlie bit back a moan as his hand was picked up and flexed. He hissed in pain when his middle finger was moved. “What is it with Weasleys and self-destruction?”  
“I punched a wall, Severus, that's a long way from what Ron did.”  
“I know.”  
  
A shiver passed through Charlie as lips pressed into his knuckles. He finally looked into Severus' face.  
  
“I do feel the same way,” Severus said quietly, moving in closer, lowering their hands. “I do, Charlie. But I'll be damned if I curse myself the way I seem to have been cursed all my life. Can you understand that? Or if not, at least try?”  
“I-”  
“And if you want proof, look to my actions here tonight. I have kept the company of those I would never normally bother to seek out.”  
“For Harry,” Charlie muttered.  
“For _you_ , you fool!” Severus burst out, eyes widening. “Did you really think I would have sat there and watched my enemy's son get married, if it wasn't for you? Sitting there thinking how awful it was that Lily was not there, mopping her eyes up, watching her little boy get married? That was _painful_. I am too tired and too old to be purposefully torturing myself like this without good reason. And you are that reason, Charlie.”  
“I never asked you to hurt yourself.” Charlie sniffed, lowering his eyes again.  
“No, but you asked me to come here today. You asked me to be with you. So that we might finally let others into the secret of our relationship. It seems everyone already knew, so I needn't have bothered. But I did. For you.”  
  
The older wizard seemed to run out of words then, and Charlie was glad, because shame had started to eat away at his gut and he didn't want to worsen the feeling.  
  
“I love you,” he whispered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss just to the left of Severus' mouth, on his cheek. He lingered, not pulling away.  
“And I feel the same way about you, but I can't say that word. Not yet. Not until I can feel safe.”  
“I thought you did feel safe with me,” Charlie mumbled. He reached up and wrapped his arms around his lover.  
“It's not about you. It's about me.”  
“Oh, I've heard that one before.”  
  
Severus let out a laugh, harsh but still amused, and Charlie couldn't help but smile slightly in return.  
  
“Trust me?” Severus implored suddenly, using his hand to bring them eye to eye. Charlie relished the sensation of the man's palm on his jawline.  
“I do.”  
  
They kissed. Charlie closed his eyes. Severus leant against him, nosing against his hair before kissing his neck. It was a good while before Charlie realised that he was holding the man so tightly in his arms that his breaths were rash and constricted. He made to relax but found himself grabbed in an equally tight hold.  
  
“Don't.”  
“Don't leave me,” Severus muttered into his ear.  
“I won't.”  
  
_-fin-_


End file.
